


Spring Fling

by Filmsterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, M/M, Nerd Dean, Punk Castiel, School Dances, Teasing, Tropes, minor fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: The blonde boy rolled his eyes. "Why would you care?" "Hm, good question. I am always enticed by the invitation of a good fling." As Castiel spoke, he began to stretch his long arms up over his head, as if working out in a kink in his muscles. He was keenly aware of the space on his hip bone where his shirt was rising to show just a breath of freshly-inked skin. He was also aware that Dean's eyes were fixed on that spot, his lips parted just slightly as he huffed out a bit of air. "See something you like, Winchester?"





	

Springtime in Kansas can be said to be a beautiful thing. Flowers in bloom, children laughing, etc, etc.

Castiel liked the springtime for only two reasons. One, it meant that he could smoke a cigarette without freezing his nuts off. And two, the track team resumed their practice at the field outside of the school. While he might despise them for their inflated sense of school spirit and the idiotic company they chose to keep, Castiel thought everyone could agree that muscular thighs underneath spandex running shorts were the great equalizer of the human race.

This afternoon, Castiel would get to combine his favorite springtime activities. He would sit on the bleachers that bordered the field and leisurely smoke cigarettes while he watched those muscular little thighs jogging in circles like trained circus monkeys. Smoking on school grounds was very much prohibited, but luckily Castiel knew that the coach would not be at practice on this particular afternoon-- and as for the team themselves, well... for some reason no one wanted to volunteer to be the one who told the six foot tall kid with the the combat boots and the constant death glare to fuck off. Weird. 

Cas sniggered proudly to himself at the thought, flicking his cigarette absent-mindedly. Practice wasn't starting for another hour so he had a little time to kill. He had an idea how he wanted to spend it. 

His feet wandered lazily around the brick wall he'd been hiding behind, and his eyes were treated to what he thought was just the most precious little sight. 

A big banner (in the school colors, of course) hung across a table in front of the main entrance of the school. It read SGA INVITES YOU TO THIS YEAR'S SPRING FLING. Reading it practically left a bad taste in Cas' mouth, but he kept on walking in that direction anyway.

Behind the table sat two students who looked-- well, they didn't look like Castiel, that's for sure. The girl had red hair and a hoodie with a line on it that was probably a reference to something Cas didn't give a shit about. The boy next to her had dirty blonde hair that was a little too disheveled not to be intentional, plain clothing and thick-rimmed glasses. He had that kind of look about him from a '90s teen flick, like if he lost the specs he'd instantly turn into an Abercrombie model. Castiel sauntered over to the booth with a confident grace, puffing on his cigarette as he moved.

Neither of the two noticed him, but he saw the girl whisper something into the boy's ear before she got up and disappeared. The boy nodded and turned his head, finally taking heed of the heavy steps of boots approaching as Castiel closed the gap and discarded his cigarette on the ground. 

From his seat behind the table, the boy stared up at him with annoyed boredom in his eyes. "Smoking on school grounds? How very reckless of you." 

Cas tossed off the comment with a sideways grin. "How much are tickets for big dance?" he questioned playfully, punctuatuing the inquiry with a sweep of his tongue over his bottom lip. 

The blonde boy rolled his eyes. "Why would _you_ care?" 

"Hm, good question. I am always enticed by the invitation of a good _fling_." As Castiel spoke, he began to stretch his long arms up over his head, as if working out in a kink in his muscles. He was keenly aware of the space on his hip bone where his shirt was rising to show just a breath of freshly-inked skin. 

He was also aware that Dean's eyes were fixed on that spot, his lips parted just slightly as he huffed out a bit of air. 

"See something you like, Winchester?" Cas asked with a knowing smile.

The boy snapped his eyes away from Cas, darted them down and around and anywhere but that spot on Cas' waist. Then he cleared his throat and stared up at Cas from behind his glasses, which were starting to slip down his nose a little. He adjusted them.

"Aw, come on, Dean," Castiel pouted. The other boy continued to stare stare at him blankly. 

Cas straightened up and raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I've decided to assimilate. You know, join the masses. Get the whole 'high school experience'."

Dean snorted at that. "Yeah, right."

Another student passed by the table and eyed it slowly, diverting his attention momentarily. The passerby strolled on, but Castiel took the moment of Dean's stolen attention to sink down into the vacant chair beside him. 

When Dean noticed Cas sit down beside him, his expression remained the same. "That's Charlie's seat," he murmured. 

"Calm down, Winchester," Cas scolded. "She can have it back when she gets here. Now, as I was saying."

Dean sighed a sigh of near complete exasperation. He didn't aporeciate being mocked, and certainly not by Castiel. He threw his head backward, but begrudgingly let it roll in Castiel's direction. 

"The dance?" Cas asked. 

"Can you stop this---" 

"Listen," said Cas, leaning way too far in to Dean's personal space, dropping his voice until it was low enough to border on intimate. He dropped all traces of sarcasm. "You may not believe it, but my boyfriend happened to have planned this whole spring shit shindig. And while it may go against everything I stand for, I would like to go to see how the whole thing turned out. It might even be... I don't know, _enjoyable_ , in an ironic way."

Dean cast a sideways glance at the strange boy sitting next to him. It must have been quite a sight: Castiel Novak, all six feet and tattoos and leather, trussed up lie he thought he was in the Ramones or something, hunched over and looking up at him with eyes that looked... well, they looked earnest.  

"Cas, you hate dances. You hate _school_."

"But I don't hate you."

"Ha." Dean barked out roughly. "Be still my beating heart. Cas, you old romantic."

Despite the fact that Dean's reservations were clearly falling away at rapid pace, he kept up his charade of being mildly irked at the conversation. Cas smiled brilliantly at him. 

He liked when Dean took him to task like that. He was one of very few people who wasn't afraid to call Castiel out on his bullshit. Which was good, because Cas did regularly have to be knocked down a peg or two. Why not have it be at the hands of a nerdy, virtuous, academically-achieving, student-body-governing little twerp?

"Dean," he started again, "if you're not going to sell me tickets to the dance then I'm sure your red-headed sidekick would be more than willing to do it." 

Dean gave Cas one more good solid look-over before he turned his body to face him. "Alright, fine," he relented after a minute. "But I have a few conditions."

Castiel leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm listening."

"Okay, one: you are not allowed to bring any alcohol."

Alright, that one was expected. Dean could be such a prude sometimes. But whatever. Sure, Cas felt a bit deflated at losing his self-indulgent fantasy of spiking the punch bowl. But it was a compromise he could live with.

When he nodded curtly, Dean continued, "Two: there will be no _explicit acts_ while on school grounds, if you know what I mean."

Cas couldn't hold back a derisive snicker at that. Yeah, he knew what was meant. 

It's not exactly as if they'd been doing anything too 'explicit' off school grounds either, besides some over-the-pants grope sessions. Dean was fairly attached to the idea of his virtue. Castiel actually found it cute sometimes, when he wasn't grinding his palm into his crotch and cursing his blue balls. 

Dean didn't wait for Cas this time to go on. "Three: you wear a suit."

"You want _me_ to wear a suit?" Cas spit back indignantly. Obviously Dean didn't really get the whole vibe he was going for if he was going to ask this of him. "Like a jacket and a tie?" 

Dean wore a proud smile. "Mmhmm. I think you'll look handsome."

"Ugh," Cas groaned loudly as Dean leaned over and pinched his cheek and cooed annoyingly. He smacked the hand away from his face. 

He sat forward on his pointedly looked Dean in the face. "Okay, counter offer: I'll wear a bow tie and a jacket, and we make out in the office supply closet at least once. I know you have the key."

Dean's mouth stretched into a grin that made him look like a cat that ate the canary. "Deal."

For some reason he reached a hand out as if to shake, which was absurd and overly formal. So Castiel wrapped his own hand around Dean's and used it as a tool to tug him in for a more appropriate seal their agreement. He slotted their mouths together, running his tongue over Dean's bottom lip in that way he knew Dean liked, giving a toothy grin when he was rewarded with a sound of surprised pleasure. 

Sometimes Cas thought that his having a boyfriend was the weirdest thing that has ever happened in his already-pretty-weird life. But then moments like this, when he could unlock Dean's breathy moan with just a little touch here or the right word whispered there, he figured it was a pretty cool thing after all. 

Dean got a little too into it after that, grabbing the collar of Cas' leather jacket and pressed their bodies tighter together. They only parted when a noticeable cough sounded behind Cas' back. Dean, modest little flower that he was, pulled his freshly bruised lips away from Cas' with a tinge of rouge staining his cheeks. 

God he was such a sight. Castiel definitely felt a bit of pride that. 

"Did we sell any tickets?" Charlie was asking, still hovering above them. 

Dean looked over at Cas quizzically, considering something. "Yeah, I sold one."

"Excuse you, Winchester," Cas corrected him harshly. "You sold two."

When Dean gave him another questioning stare, Cas rolled his eyes and added, "Obviously, I am buying my date's ticket."

He stood up and moved to the other side of the table while Charlie reclaimed her seat. Dean scrunched his nose thoughtfully. "Cas I get in for free."

"Jesus, De-- its a gesture. Just take my friggin money." He fished out a crisp twenty from a duct tape wallet, which Charlie gleefully stole out of his grasp in a flash. 

She replaced the empty hand with two printed tickets and gave him a goofy smile. "Thank you for your business, valued patron." 

Cas bit back the urge to curtsy at her. Instead he shrugged noncomitally, like the whole thing he been no big deal. He turned and nodded to the boy beside her. "Are you going to practice this afternoon?" 

A sneaky look took over Dean's face as he leaned back in his chair. "Yes. Are you going to leer at me from the bleachers?"

"As always," Cas teased, taking another cigarette out of his pocket and placing it between his lips. 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and let his lips curl up at the edges. "Good."


End file.
